The Resentful Open Micer

Let's start with the demons:

This person has seen me do well, but they never book me. They must hate me or my comedy. They keep pulling from the same circle of friends. Oh, they're booking other producers, movers and shakers, I get it. You book me, I book you. 

A first-year comic that brings 20 people. That's every producer's friend.

Ok, maybe they work hard AND they deserve it, but FUCK. THEM.

The rage of jealousy. Who is more deserving? Who is funnier?

I started working harder on my material and good things started happening.

Oh, is that how it works? I wasn't making an impression with my mediocrity, frequent bitching and fizzle-outs?

I'd be on stage feeling a bit wasn't going well and then jump ship,

"Alright, we'll just move onto the next thing." (20-second pause while I search my beer-battered brain for the next bit)

My biggest bombs have been with human interactions. Other comics that I just met...or think I just met. The fist-bumping, awkward half hug, handshake nightmare that’s never consistent. Sometimes it feels like an audition, I only have 30 seconds to prove that I’m funny and I’m not an alien. I usually fail both tests AND offend the person as a bonus! 

My ideal exchange is being silly with someone and it’s not a joke-off for seniority, we just have a mutual appreciation for stupid. I can let my guard down and be myself. It's hard though, I have to train myself to relax, remind myself it’s ok to just listen and not try to make an impression, or run over someone else's thoughts with my forced input. Stop crapping on comics I barely know.

I’ve been doing obnoxious/quirky shit for so long that I forget it’s a part of me- I make car sound effects when I dart past someone. I make sound effects when I give my debit card to the cashier. The fuck is wrong with me?

I play out hypothetical arguments IN MY HEAD. I'm getting worked up from imaginary interactions. It stems from one or two poisonous relationships. Why am I trying to be friends with someone so disagreeable? Why do I keep saying hi when they clearly want nothing to do with me? I want to be liked so bad, but it’s time to let that shit go. Maybe I just don't like the idea of ignoring someone that I used to talk to. A comedy ex.

“I don’t know the meaning of success, but I do know the meaning of failure. It’s when I try to make everybody love me.”

-a sign hanging up in Sammy Davis Jr.’s dressing room.

Wow. I’m glad I stumbled onto that one.

Comedy Groups on Facebook only stir the pot. So much sarcasm. Everyone has a snarky reply. I feel bad for the newbies because they’re obsessed with their very first set and already they want constant reassurance.

Let me share the joke I did and you tell me that it’s great and that I did the right thing- here's a clip. 

They’re still getting over the fear of DOING standup, while I'm complaining about not getting up enough! 

There are some godawful mics that will ultimately make me feel worse, but I still want to reach my minimum quota of 4 mics a week. Anything less and I feel like a piece of unproductive shit. 

The battle to keep cool continues. Listening to a host shit on another comic. How many comics in a row have a hacky race joke? This goldmine was exhausted by the 80's, but I guess research limits your output. Another smelly homeless person story. Trump impressions. Women are craaaazy. Complaining how you can't say faggot or dancing around the possibility of saying the N-Word. I'm so mis-er-a-bleeeee.

I write entries like this as if I have a fucking grasp on it, but I really don't. I bomb and I bomb and I bomb. I struggle to be myself. I rub a lot of people the wrong way. I have a long way to go.

Just give me stage time, anywhere, and I'll work at getting better. I'm trying to figure out these pesky act-outs. I have to commit to these 3-4 minute bits while most onlookers watch me stone-faced, or never look up from their phones. I feel disconnected all the time and I have to push myself to make eye contact.

Jeremiah Watkins told me to do that a couple years ago and it's still a struggle. I want to avert my eyes from any judgement. Fear is still holding me back.

Here's my jittery interview with him at The Comedy Store. It's 14 minutes and it's definitely worthwhile if you're feeling frustrated about open mics- let's go down the inspirational path for a moment...shall we?

I'm way older than Jeremiah, but I admire the guy and he's got a ton of mileage on me, so I couldn't help but be a nervous wreck and call him a Comedy God, haha. I was really pleased with his answers though and I hope you find some inspiration here, especially regarding attitudes and doing shows.

I think it is good to do as many shows as possible and there's nothing better than getting a Facebook message at 1 in the morning for a booking. I love filling up that calendar. You can throw any shit-show at me and I still get excited, especially when the flyer comes out.

I can walk into the worst case scenario:

You can’t turn off the televisions because there’s a game on- fine! 

Jukebox is staying on, fine! 

The bartender is having loud conversations with the customers, fine! 

Some guy is playing pool, ok! 

The sound cuts in and out, fine! 

The disco lights are distracting, fine! 

The other comics are talking outside, fine! 

The customers have to cross the stage to use the bathroom, fine, I'll make it work! I still get 10 minutes though, right? Hmm, I wonder if I can get them to listen, wouldn't that be something?

A week ago, my Dad and my stepmom had a stop in LA before going back to Hawaii. We met up at the Old World Village Market near my work. I told my dad about my first Door Guy spot and how my dirty joke got a laugh break and then he asked me to tell him the joke. I was hesitant, it was just weird because we were standing in this German marketplace and he had a basket filled with jars of peppers and mustard. I suppose the perfect setting for a dick joke.

I told him the joke and he was quiet. Then he was shaking. I saw him laugh through his squinting eyes and he said, “Did you write that? That’s pretty good.”

I don’t know why I even hesitated, the guy makes innuendos 24-7. At dinner he showed me a vacation photo where his ass was hanging out. Like me, he hesitated to share the joke for about 2 seconds. Then he got a laugh out of me. It's like we're both afraid to have our childish sense of humor shot down, the thing we hold dearest.

He's had my back through all my dumb decisions. DJ, Actor, Filmmaker. I’ve been on the wrong path before, so there’s always that possibility that I’m being delusional again. I took 4 years of my life to complete and eventually quit on a feature film and there’s that fear that I’m going to look back at my standup work and realize...shit, I was wrong again. The work is sloppy, amusing at best. Why did I think that I could do this?

That’s not the case though. I can do this. I don’t have to wait to go to a screening to see if these jokes work, I can just invade a dive bar mic on any given night with a handful of thoughts. Sometimes it's just a chuckle on the setup of the premise- oh ok. Maybe it's worth pursuing. That only took 30 seconds. Go back tomorrow for part 2 of 2,000- the development of this fine ball-accident joke.

The shows build up my confidence again. People that are specifically coming out for a comedy show are enjoying my set and for once I'm not seeking the approval of some asshole looking down on their phone. The work has paid off, but there's still so much more to do.

It’s the technical year. Compiling a consistent 5 minute act. 7 minutes. 10. 15. Logical segues and seamless transitions. Moving around comfortably in a professional setting. What is the line to open with? I say “Hey guys” and it never goes well. Immediately a bad impression. I usually come off best when I comment on something that has nothing to do with my pre-planned jokes- a little acknowledgement, maybe the setting or a callback to a funnier comedian’s bit. Always a positive statement, nothing backhanded. I can't stand comedians that shit on the venue when they're getting paid to be there. 

Right now I’m obsessed with the first word, Do I say hi? What’s up guys? Give it up for yourselves! I’m thinking of trying “Thank you” as if to say, Thank you for allowing me to get THIS far. Now let's see if I can make you laugh.

I made a promo video for my first Rec Room spot as a Door Guy. I love doing stupid shit like this at 2 in the morning.

I'd say 90% of the time I drag myself out of my self-loathing and get in the car, the night takes a turn for the better. I start singing in the car, making up my own lyrics, warming up my voice for the eventual set- maybe two if I'm lucky. Sometimes it goes horrible, but I still run into some fantastic people- totally worth it. Venturing out of my circle of friends usually leads to an interesting night. 

Every once in awhile someone comes up to me and mentions my website or open mic reviews. A couple guys handed me cash- unbelievable. That's pretty awesome. Sometimes the host will mention the critic thing in my intro and I'll get embarrassed because I don't want comedians to get the wrong idea, like it makes me think I deserve something. I just want to run my jokes too. I do occasionally scream, "No, no, NOOOOO!" during your set and shred pieces of paper, but it's only because I'm signaling to the host that I'm going to write the nastiest review unless I receive SPOTS. So don't jerk me around.

I've been pretty harsh at times, but I think a lot of mics are just excuses to get high with friends and that's just not my thing. I get annoyed when a fucked up host wastes time talking shit. No material, just ranting, spewing bile in every direction. There's a reason experienced comics never turn up to these mics. It's not because they're fucking hipsters, they have better places to be! This mic is depressing.

I fucking hate these people...where's the joke?  Freedom of speech my ass, say something that'll surprise everyone, I dare you. I dare you to write a good joke to back up that statement. That would blow everyone's mind, believe me. I just want to leave these people behind forever. Ranting open micers are BORING. 

Ugh, who wants to read this shit?  JUST BE FUNNY!!!!!

BE NICE. BE FUNNY. WORK HARD.

I'm going to end this entry with something fun.

Luis is 17. We call him the intern. He's a bright guy and extremely funny for his age. He complains a lot like a whiny kid who constantly feels left out and talks a big game just to get a reaction. He's doing standup and who knows if he'll actually stick it out, but it seems like he's found a home with us weirdos...at least at the coffee shop mics or places he's allowed into. Here's an example of his sense of humor.

Recently he posted this on Instagram:

This flyer looks legit for an open mic. Minimal effort and the necessary information. 

We should've known what this kid was up to, but we wanted to believe this mic existed so bad and why doubt the kid? Maybe he'll give us a featured spot, haha. Weirder mics have existed. Anyway, these are the comments that followed:

Here's some links to some past blog entries:

My First and Worst Year: Open Mic Hell

My First and Worst Year: Bringer Shows

My First and Worst Year: Westwood Brewco and Onward (the beginning)

My First and Worst Year: Producing a Show

Year 2: The Worst Comedian

Year 2: The Worst Comedian (Part 2)

This Half-Assed Hustle (compiled truths and occasional fiction)

2:25pm

Driving up to Los Angeles with my Spotify playlist on shuffle. Some day I would like to be driving a car full of comics, singing along to Lady Marmalade as we drive 100 miles to our next gig.

3:21pm

I have to piss so bad. I gotta get out of this fucking car. Adjusting my seat to find any angle that gives my bladder even the slightest relief. You can't pull a Dumb and Dumber in your girlfriend's car, you're not pissing into that bottle.

3:40pm

Park at Amoeba Music and then walk over to Arclight Hollywood. I haven't seen a movie here in years, but I'll happily take a piss any chance I get. The dome is especially good for taking a dump- best bathroom in Hollywood. Its been 10 years since I quit and I still have a couple of friends that work here. Amazing.

3:47pm

Go through hundreds of "As Is" used DVDs, prices ranging from $1.99-7:99. I'm gradually buying back my old collection- this was my addiction for awhile. I've bought and sold and repurchased DVDs from this place dozens and dozens of times. Losing money every time. Like when I first moved to LA and didn't have a checking account, so I'd go to one of those Check Cashing places and they'd take a huge chunk. I've perfected so many ways of losing money. Some comedian said, "I'm the Michael Jordan of overdraft fees." I think most comedians could've written that.

5:10pm

Meltdown Comics

Sign my name on the scrap of paper and throw it in the lunch pail. I see a comic that I want to say hi to, but I'm too worried he's going to think I'm kissing up to be on his show. Forced conversation might raise suspicions. He's kind of goofy like I am. In the end, I shy away. We give mutual nods of acknowledgement instead. I've made attempts in the past, but it never lasts past a couple of pleasantries. Goddammit, why do I act like it's a fucking audition, just relax.

5:20pm

The room is starting to fill up. People are smoking out back. I have a few exchanges with other male comics. Majority of comedians in Los Angeles are familiar with this dialogue:

"You going to the Store next?"

"Nah, I'm gonna bounce to Marty's or Pig N Whistle. You?"

"If I don't get up at the Store I'll go down to The Improv Space."

"Cool, cool."

It's all hollow and predictable, but I say these things all the time. Where you coming from? Where you bouncing to next? Is that a good mic? How many minutes? You got anything coming up?

If I find out the person I'm talking to was booked on a cool show I'll get a little pissed off. It'll show on my face too, I'm an incredibly bad liar. It's completely insane, it doesn't even matter if I genuinely like the person, I'll still feel a flash of jealousy. It's involuntary at this point, I've programmed myself to be competitive against everyone because everyone is doing things that I'm not.

Then I remind myself that I'm not very good yet. I don't have to be everywhere, Jesus. Get good and then worry about that shit!

Awkward hug. Forgot that person's name.

5:35pm

One of two hosts calls out my name for the 20th spot. Shit. I probably can't do The Store and then bounce back and make it work, so I guess I'll just be here. Some of the other guys know how to flip-flop to multiple places, but I haven't figured it out yet. It's a little disheartening when 3/4 of the room clears out and there's less than ten people in the audience.

6:20pm

Still waiting around. They worked in some of the more established comics into the line up, which drags things out. Still burns my ass when someone drops in for five minutes and then they're gone in a flash. Must be nice.

I step outside and I have a conversation with Jeff for a bit. He talks my ear off about surface level comedy shit and keeps asking me questions. It's irritating because he immediately looks down at his phone when I start to answer and then he asks me again. It all feels out of obligation and reinforces my fear of losing my own personality someday; where I become an automatic networking robot of a comic that vomits out the same line of bullshit over and over. Never connecting with people, only advertising, advertising, posting, tweeting, and screaming at all the other comics, HEY- HERE"S WHAT I'M DOING- HERE I AM! PICTURE OF ME AT SHOW. PICTURE OF ME HAVING ACCOMPLISHED THIS THING. PICTURE OF ME POSING WITH BETTER COMIC THAT SHOULD HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!

7:10pm

I'm on stage and only half way through a joke when the realization that I'm bombing stifles the little energy that I have. I feel myself trailing off and force myself to finish. It's painful. I even got a fake laugh, which is worse than silence because it probably came from another comic. I'm supposed to listen to this set on my phone later to find out where I went wrong. How about when I got on the stage?

7:15pm

I'm scrolling through other open mic options on The Comedy Bureau. I really just want to go home. I don't want to pay $5 for a mic I can't stand, or a 1-drink minimum when I don't want to drink. I mean, I could get a soda, but when I'm at a bar I just gravitate towards beer. Why do I keep going to these 3 minute mics and waste my time with tried and failed material? Where's the progress Wurst?

By the time I decide on one, it'll be too late for me to get there in time. I suppose I could pop into Tribal and see what's happening. A nostalgic stop that probably won't do much for my mood, but I already bombed once anyway.

The romantic side of me wants to spend the remainder of my monthly allowance on a Reuben sandwich at Canters. Write jokes with coffee and a sandwich. Then worry about money later. But would you really write anything?

I like to bottom out. When I have a little money, I quickly burn through it almost to get it over with, embracing the inevitable. Then I hit zero and it's a reset button. I get help from my Dad, or I occasionally land some random gig with filming or editing. The audiobooks were completely unrealistic; I basically donated a few hundred work hours and barely made anything. I'll work my ass off on projects that make little to no return. I go after the impossible each time. Acting, filming, now comedy and audiobooks, why does anyone continue to support me?

7:26pm

I have Claire on the phone. She says I'm not a piece of shit. I was trying to convince her otherwise, but she knows my self-esteem is just low, because I bombed and now I'm just trying to bear-hug all the negative things that I can. I am a good person. I'm just incredibly stupid.

She says I'm not stupid. She says that I'm kind and generous. I finally give in and tell her I love her. I tell her there's a chance I'm going to hit one more mic. She asks me to text her when I'm heading home.

7:40pm

Sitting in the car, thinking I should've signed up at Anchor Bar for a late spot. That would've been perfect. Just get the fuck out of LA, you're burned out on this side. Maybe I could visit an old friend while I'm up here. I could go back to Amoeba and get that Kung-Fu movie for four bucks. Go home and eat that can of black beans and not spend another dime. Do mics in Long Beach the next week without spending anything.

I could easily make it to Mel's or Big Wangs later. The list at Tribal could be a mile long- plus I think you're supposed to order a sandwich now. Their food is good but their service sucks.

7:49pm

Hit the library just before it closed. A little inspiration might help! Autobiographies from Sarah Silverman, David Spade, and Bernie Mac! Plus a book about Cult Films and Facts I Should Know- warm up the brain matter, possible premises. I love walking out with a shitload of books!

9:30pm

Who calls it a night when comedy is just starting? This guy!

Claire is still up and our fatty kitty Tune is sitting an inch from her face, her paws propped up on her favorite human's chest. She's in purr mode, but when I get close she briefly sniffs my face for identification. I check out.

Sometimes it's not the number of mics I hit. I hit a wall tonight and needed an out. I need to cut myself a break. So many people are working harder than me and I know it. What's it going to take man?

My First and Worst Year: Bringer Shows

How could anyone possibly book me after this set?

Oct. 27, 2013 was my second show at Flappers. At the time I felt it was okay. Now I can't stand to look at it. I'm out of breath. I'm frantic. It looks drug-induced. I'm trying to be Griffin Dunne in After Hours or something. It's like the time I was trying to be cool at Stella Adler by doing Eric Bogosian monologues in scene class. It just felt good to yell.

Jesus, I just checked, It even says that in my fucking journal,

My Set:

Wallet- "It felt good to yell!"

Bully Kids- "A little sloppy, but good!"

Open your eyes, mac!

After my set, a "talent scout" named Alexander takes me aside and wants to take my info down for The Comedy Store. He's very complimentary and I'm thinking, OH, I'm getting my just rewards! Holy shit this standup world is magical. Things are fucking happening!

I don't think I'd even stood in line for the Comedy Store's potluck open mic yet, but now I was already getting booked on a show!

1st experience backstage in the Comedy Room Green Room!

A video posted by Marty Wurst (@thewurstpictures) on Dec 4, 2013 at 8:49pm PST

I have a history of gullibility. I joined the American Radio Network on Sunset/Hobart when I was 19 and was totally convinced that I was producing my own radio show. I thought it was being broadcast somewhere. I was paying for time and living in a delusional world where I, like many overexcited morons that move to California, didn't know any better. I wanted to believe it SOO BAD. Just look what it says on their website:

"To all skeptics: The American Radio Network is not a SCAM!"

Haha, come on man! That's a definite red flag. That sounds like they've received thousands of accusations- it's the first thing in their statement! The website is shit, their equipment is shit, and it's still going! Denial is so powerful.

Anyway, so what are Bringer Shows to you non-comics? Well, you need a minimal amount of people to show up- preferably 5-10. My friends usually paid $15-20 bucks per entry, along with a 2-drink minimum.

So what's wrong with that?

Well, it's going to be a wildly uneven show because the line-up is stacked with new and inexperienced comics like me that SUCK. We're talking comics that are only a few months in, or maybe a year. Then at the end, Bobby Lee closes it out!

Well, at least the last guy was funny, even though I heard most of his jokes before.

My friends will never want to come out again because they just blew 40-50 bucks on a shit show and now I've just reinforced anyone's opinions of lousy comedy. Why go to a show at all? This is what it's like?

The whole thing is seductive because you're playing the historic rooms. The Original Room at the Comedy Store- Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Jim Carrey. I was on a show with a television star, Bobby Lee, I'm working my way up already!

I've had relatives ask me, "So when are you getting a comedy special?"

Nobody knows how this works! After that show I would've said,

"Give me a year!"

So I'm promoting my shows online and expected to bring in a number of friends every time. I bring in less friends every time because they've already supported my ass, and this shit is expensive. Suddenly I'm not booked. Or worse, the booker still wants me, but treats me like shit.

Here's a doo-dad example! Look at this idiot here:

So you see this dickhead, right?  He's convinced he's moving up in the world! The booker even made him a stupid flyer!

I was already starting to feel the pressure from the bringer shows after a couple of spots. Flappers always wanted a head count, but this is how they worded it,

*Our shows are not bringer required, but as a courtesy,  if you don't think you can get some fans to see you, we are happy to reschedule you for a show that may be more convenient."

In other words Marty, make some fucking friends and GRILL THEM until they GUARANTEE YOU THEY'RE COMING OUT- AND HAVE THEM CALL US WHEN THEY ARRIVE, SO WE CAN PREPARE TO SELL THEM SHIT WINGS! OR NO SHOW FOR YOU! I REPEAT, WE'RE NOT A BRINGER SHOW!!!!!  Just kind of.

One time I asked the booker up front if it was a bringer and the response was,

"Not really, it's not like others, I mean, you only need to bring a couple people out."

Oh, okay. So then I would do it.

I was sucked into another show when I was out of town. Someone from the Store referred me to another booker. She was all talk, asking for my credits, how much pay, how much experience I had- all business and sounding pre-recorded. My inexperience shined through my responses and she probably already knew. I agreed to the show after she talked me up and then I started feeling a little queasy about it. On the other hand, I told my mom the exciting news- another booking! 

I reached out to a fellow comic, Jeremiah Watkins:

12/21/13 "Hey Jeremiah, sorry to bother you during the holidays. I was just kind of shaken up by a bringer show situation and I would love to hear your take on it if you get a chance some time. I love comedy, I love comedians, but someone booked me a show and then made me feel like shit for not having more people committed to going. It was just weird and it felt like Glengarry Glen Ross "Always be CLOSING!" I'd be honored to make a cent from doing what I love at the moment, but I don't want to kill myself over this upcoming gig. I understand the importance of promoting, but I assume it's difficult for any beginner unless they have a built-in fanbase. Anyway, sorry- I don't know a lot of comedians yet and I only know you from Jake's podcast. Have a happy holiday man."

It's painful to read this. I was so clueless! Jeremiah responded back:

"Bringer shows suck, so don't feel bad that you didn't get a bunch of people out to that show. Keep hitting mics and working hard and you'll get to a point where if someone asks you to bring a certain amount of people, it's insulting. Do as many mics as you can and you'll get shows from people who aren't expecting you to bring anything but the funny. ONLY use bringer shows if you're in DESPERATE need to showcase for an agency or manager. Otherwise, good shows will organically come. Hope this helps."

"It does. Big time. Thank you buddy."

A flyer I left in the break room of the Geffen Playhouse.

I was working in the Box Office at The Geffen Playhouse when my cel started to ring. It was the booker. I stepped out and took the call.

"Hi Marty, I just wanted to see how many people you have confirmed."

....

"Just 2 so far," I said, which was a complete lie, but it was better than saying none. There was a pause on the line and then,

"Marty...that's not good enough."

I think my heart started beating faster as I absorbed the sinister tone that had wafted through the phone. What the hell?

"You have to message your friends on Facebook and get them to come out, and what about the flyer I made you? If you can't get at least 5 people out I don't think I'll be able to give you time, there are other comedians that can bring people."

I was stunned...and she must have felt it because I didn't respond for 10 seconds. I should've bailed out then.

"Marty?"

I stammered out some excuses and she sort of took pity on me and relented a bit,

"I'll get you up, but you have to try okay? Get on Facebook and message them."

It didn't matter anymore. I wasn't looking forward to the show because in the back of my mind I could hear that bitch's voice asking how many people were coming. I'd had friends come out to past shows, but this time I was just dried up. I shouldn't of cared, but I didn't know the score, I thought I wasn't going to be able to do stand-up comedy like I wanted. I thought I had to do these fucking bringer shows.

My girlfriend was keeping me at bay, I could vent to her at least. I didn't really have anyone else I could talk to. Trying to explain this shit to any non-comic is exhausting because there's all these potential, "So, shouldn't you promote?" kind of responses that might lead to an argument. I want to enjoy doing my standup, not worry about who's getting off the fucking 101. I'm not a promoter.

She called on the day of the show,

"MAKE ONE LAST PUSH!"

Unexpectedly, my friend Nikki turned up and her presence was much needed. So I had ONE PERSON. Just 4 below good enough. 1 out of 104 invites.

The M bar was falling apart in spectacular fashion. It used to be a hotspot for comedy and burlesque shows, but now it needed someone to pull the trigger. The credit card machines were down, half of the menu wasn't available and yet the staff insisted that people order shit. Get cash!

When I got there, the booker was getting drunk and talking business with the owner.

I met a young comic named Trevor James. He was in the same anxious boat as me, with zero friends showing up. I quickly bonded with him. Finally, our horrible boss marched up to us, and gave us a few instructions, never bothering to talk to us like human beings.

I visited my friend Nikki for a moment, who was being pretty cool about the M-Bar situation, and then the booker is calling me over,

"Marty, I NEED YOU TO BE HERE IF I'M GOING TO PUT YOU UP 2ND! *poke* YOU CAN'T BE LEAVING *poke* YOU HAVE TO SUPPORT THE OTHER COMICS!"

This bitch was aggressively poking me in the chest. I couldn't believe it.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere," I said.

She marched off. I was livid. I didn't even know how much time I was doing.

The order was changed several times. I ended up going on 5th or 6th. The booker also did a set. It was like watching a drunk relative fall onto a wedding cake. She was embarrassing herself. Then the headliner went up and wasn't getting much love. He was drunk too and took it out on the audience, calling a guy in the front row a faggot. His Brooklyn buddies were egging him on, so he dragged his set out for 15 minutes repeating,

"THIS IS MY SHOW!" Killer stuff. I don't think I've seen a set like that since.

After this disaster, I split without saying goodbye, sat with my friend Nikki in her car for a minute and thanked her for being there, despite all the bullshit. I would've felt worse if I subjected more of my friends to the M Bar- I'm lucky only Nikki showed. She paid to see that.

When I got home I blocked that bringer bitch from all my social media.

Never again.

Until a couple more times at The Ice House, The C-Word in The Belly Room (both of which I enjoyed) and The Formosa Cafe (fuck that guy).

I know a handful of people that are still doing bringer shows. Some new people, and a few comics that are 3 years like me. They seem content. Or maybe they're just as clueless as I was, but do I interfere?  After all, I'm the one performing in dive bars, they're playing at respectable CLUBS! I must be the one in the wrong, right? Maybe they just have unlimited friends.

Thank God that shit is over with.

I didn't go through the M-Bar experience alone. Thanks, Nikki!

Oh, and I found this video I posted on Facebook, promoting the dreaded M-Bar show. I had clearly given up and this was a coping mechanism to keep from having a complete meltdown.

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